I ring the girl from out my dreams
And pray to God she answers
I hate when I get her machine
My messages are oft disaters
I hear her voice, that sultry tone
I ask how she is doing
Some sweat drips down onto the phone
As I beging my wooing
To break the ice I tell a joke
She laughs, my heart pumps wildly
The sound of which it does invoke
Some stiffness, to put it mildly
She asks me what do I desire
Put my intentions upon the table
It rouses passion lust and fire
All my defences thus disabled
I tell her I wish to make her mine
Her reply kills my hopes in a hury
Shes says "Sir for the last bloody time"
"NO, now do you want rice with your Curry"